Charlie's Childhood Drabbles
by ZevieObsessed2012
Summary: Second Rags fanfic on the archive! :) Just a short One-shot full of drabbles of my idea of Charlie's childhood up to the movie. This is before Charlie had the dream of being famous. R&R? K for mild violence. NEW CHAPTER! :)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, lovelies! Most of you know me for my How to Rock fics! :) Anyway, I thought I'd try something new! RAGS! :D Hope you guys like it!**

**These are only drabbles! It kind of works it's way through Charlie's childhood!**

**Disclaimer: I WISH I owned Rags.**

He's seven.

_'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand mile so I could just see you... tonight!_ Mrs. Prince sang.

Charlie, her only son, was scrubbing down the counters of the restaurant listening to his mother sing. The bell on the door rings as someone enters the restaurant. It's Charlie's mother's husband-to-be, Arthur. Charlie scowls as the man who's replacing his father kisses his mother's cheek. She laughs and tells Charlie to just leave the cleaning stuff for later and go play in his room.

Charlie, scowling, walks up to his room and slams his door.

It's not fair is father walked out before he was born. It's not fair that he doesn't have what all those other kids have.

All those other kids at school have nice things, cool clothes, and both parents.

_Why can't I have that?_ Charlie thinks.

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's eight.

Charlie kicks his feets as he sits in the waiting room. He's trying not to cry. His mother told him to be brave. She said she'd be okay. He just has to believe it. You're supposed to believe everything your parents tell you, and if they say they'll be fine... well, they have to be right!_ Right?_

A nurse comes out and grabs Charlie's hand. "Your mother would like to see you," she says.

Charlie nods and follows the nurse down a long corridor past the big, heavy blue doors.

"She's in there," the nurse says, pointing to a door of light wood with a small window. Charlie looks up at the nurse, not sure exactly why she's just walking away.

He looks back at the door, and pushes it open. His mother's lying on the hospital bed, just waiting for him to come closer. He shuts the door and walks toward his mother.

"Charlie," she says, her voice hoarse from coughing so much the last year. She runs her fingers through his hair and he just watches her face. "You know I love you, right?" she says.

Charlie nods.

He doesn't know what to say... mostly because he doesn't know what to make of the situation. Arthur pulled him out of school in the middle of his teacher's lesson and drove him here.

"You'll be okay though..." Charlie says. "You told me you would."

His mother gives him a sad smile and says, "Well... sometimes people are wrong," she says slowly.

"But you aren't," Charlie says, defiantly. Stubborn, like all eight-year-old children.

"No, baby... sometimes mommy's wrong, too," she answers, watching as the sure expression on his face falters. Charlie doesn't really understand what she's saying.

"What do you mean?" he asks, stepping back from the bed.

"I mean, Mommy isn't okay. She hasn't been... do you understand?" she says slowly, feeling horribly awful inside.

Charlie shakes his head.

"Mommy's gonna have to leave... soon..." she says, tears falling down her face.

"Where are you going to go?"

"Mommy's going away..."

"But you'll come back?" Charlie says, trying to keep the hope that's left inside of him. The hope that's quickly slipping away. He doesn't understand this new feeling, but he knows he doesn't like it. His voice cracks a bit with a small sob.

She shakes her head and pulls Charlie toward her. She cries into his shoulder, and Charlie forces back anymore of his sobs, but his mother crying is one of the saddest things he's ever known, and so he cries too.

A nurse comes to collect him as one of the doctors comes in to check on his mother. He kicks and screams and cries... but they get him out of the room and give him to Reginald who's come back to the hospital to wait.

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's eleven.

"I'll be bringing it in later. My stepson, Charlie, and I will be back," Arthur says to Pawn Shop owner. Charlie stands by Arthur's side, pouting. He loves the piano his mother always played. But now Arthur's just going to sell it for a stupid karaoke machine.

"Is this Charlie?" the Pawn Shop owner asks, pointing to the little boy hiding behind Arthur with a pout on his face.

Charlie looks up a second as the man comes around from behind the counter and backs up.

"Stubborn little fella," the man comments, shaking his head and laughing a little. Charlie just scowls, failing to see what is apparently_ funny_ about the current situation. Arthur grabs behind him Charlie's arm and pulls him forward.

Charlie bites back a snide comment and looks up the owner.

"Looks like her a bit," Arthur says, trying to seem like he actually cares about anything concerning Charlie. Which is a lie. Arthur doesn't care. Charlie can even quote, "You're mother died and left me with you and this dump of a restaurant."

Truthfully, this peeved Charlie off like you wouldn't believe.

"Yeah, I see it," the owner says. He goes back behind the counter and into the back room.

As he's out of sight, Arthur elbows Charlie in the ribs. He holds in a grunt and walks away to look around the store. He looks at the old objects hanging on the walls and the things people don't want anymore littering the shelves.

"Charlie! Let's go!" Arthur calls, leaving the store. As Charlie walks to the door, the owner, Bernie his name is, says, "Charlie!"

Charlie stops in his tracks and turns to face the owner. He shrugs his shoulders with the impatient look of _"Yeah?"_ on his face.

"I know how much you want that piano to stay. Tell you what; if you can come up with the money—doesn't matter when... I'll hold the piano until you can afford it," the owner says.

And for the first time in a long time, Charlie smiles.

He nods his head and leaves the store.

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's thirteen.

"You can't do anything right, can you?" Arthur yells. "As long as this place has my name on that deed, Charlie... _you_ work for me," he storms, tossing a rag down on the counter. Arthur hated The Palace. In fact, given the chance, he'd sell the "dump" in a heartbeat.

Charlie glares at the man who's replaced both his mother and father. He takes a deep breath and does something he's wanted to do for a long time. He talks back. "_Says who?_"

Arthur steps closer to the boy and slams his palm across Charlie's face. He stumbles backward, nursing his cheek and now split lip. Biting his tongue until it draws blood, he runs up to his room.

Arthur follows him and halfway up the stairs he grabs Charlie's shirt collar and pulls him all the way upstairs. Stumbling and falling, Charlie tries to break free, or even protest, but Arthur keeps moving.

"Get in there!" he yells.

Charlie runs into his room, still holding his left cheek. Honestly, he feels like throwing up and screaming all at once. This is the first time Arthur's ever laid a hand on him, and the thought makes the contents of his stomach churn. Arthur doesn't seem to have any problem with what had just happened, however.

Arthur slams the door closed and locks it from the lock he's placed on the _outside_ of the door. "Now, I suggest you stay there and make no noise! It should be fairly obvious why you're in there!" Arthur yells, a small hint of smugness playing at his tone.

Charlie takes deeps breaths, trying to make the churning in his stomach stop. He's never been abused before like so, and the idea scares him, but at the same time makes him sick. How could someone, even as bad as Arthur do such an _awful_ thing?

Charlie sits down on the bed and grabs an old rag from the night stand. He keeps it for times like these, when he gets hurt. Andrew and Lloyd like to hide the band-aids and such from him. So the rag is all he's really got.

Gross really, but sometimes you have to make do with what you've got.

His stomach grumbles after a churning's stopped. He listens to make sure Arthur's walked away from the door. He can hear him yelling at his stepbrothers, Lloyd and Andrew, downstairs.

Quietly, Charlie slides open the window that used to be locked. He remembers the number of times he sat in his locked room and chipped the lock placed on the window. Anything to get out of that place and clear his thoughts.

Anywhere where Arthur is screaming his head off is _not_ the place to do it.

Back to the once-locked window, he needed food after all.

Charlie lifts the window open and climbs down the drain pipe. There's a fast-food restaurant nearby. He pulls out the money he's earned that's left over and makes his way down the street.

_It was much easier when you were here mom._

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's fifteen.

"Keep scrubbing," Arthur orders.

Charlie doesn't reply as he scrubs the counters. It's been almost eight years since Charlie's scrubbed these counters with his mother.

"Scrub harder," Arthur demands, his hands on his hips. He's watching over Charlie's shoulder like a hawk.

"I'm scrubbing as much as my hand will let me," Charlie retorts.

"What'd you just say to me?" Arthur yells, probably louder than is really necessary. But he doesn't care, and Charlie's used to this after all. Andrew and Lloyd are laughing in the back of the room, but Charlie ignores them.

"I was just telling you what's true," Charlie says smugly, tossing the rag down onto the counter.

"Don't get smart with me, Charlie! This is still my palace," Arthur says. "_My _name is on that deed, Charlie. _Not _yours!"

Charlie scoffs. "I'm going out," he says simply, not at all up for an argument with Arthur, or his stepbrothers.

"Hey, maybe he'll finally go missing," Andrew laughs, smirking. Lloyd just laughs with his brother, clueless to how cruel both Arthur and Andrew can be.

Charlie rolls his eyes and slips on his black leather jacket that's been resting on the back of one of the chairs.

"Curfew's at midnight," Arthur yells after him.

Charlie doesn't reply as he walks out of the restaurant. _I can't wait till I can leave this dump_.

**A/N: And that's it for Charlie's childhood drabbles! :) I hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you think! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so it's literally past midnight and I'm typing this on my iPod. So I apologize in advance for any mistakes, and hopefully you enjoy regardless! :) I really want to continue this story! So, here! Review and let me know what you thought!**

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's nine.

It's been a little over a year now since Charlie lost his mother. Sometimes realization hits hard. This is one of those times.

He sits on the edge of his bed resting his head in his hands. Tears stream down his cheeks, but he doesn't care to wipe them away.

Everybody cries. He knows it's normal. And though on numerous occasions Andrew will tease him, along with Lloyd, but cluelessly, (though the boys have no mother themselves), Charlie still cries. But in the privacy of his bedroom.

He swings his legs which, at this age, still can't reach the floor yet.

He sniffles.

That's when an idea hits him. He jumps down from the bed and peeks under it. Underneath it, there's a scrapbook him and his mother had put together ages ago.

Or so it felt.

He pulls it out, tosses on the bed and jumps into the surface. He wipes the tears off his cheeks and opens the book.

Charlie notices the pages are a little crumpled. He remembers the number of times his mother had to push the book forward a little so that his knees would stop crumpling the edges.

She'd always laugh whenever it happened. Charlie was always too busy decorating the pages to notice when it happened.

And for the remainder of the night, in the privacy of his locked bedroom, Charlie loses himself in the happy memories the photos of the scrapbook harbor.

And for once, his tears are of joy.

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's twelve.

He's gotten clever at sneaking out of the window his bedroom. After he chipped the lock, of course.

Countless hours were wasted on that lock, but for good reasons.

As he hops off the city bus, he takes a couple short cut-throughs to Bernie's Pawn Shop.

After a couple months that Arthur had sold the piano Charlie's mother once owned, he'd plucked up the courage to ask Charlie for an allowance. Arthur laughed in the little boy's face, but Charlie feigned confidence.

He wanted money of his own. He wanted to buy back his mother's piano, and Bernie promised him he'd hold it until Charlie came up with the money.

Arthur finally agreed though, but Arthur played favorites. Andrew was his above-all favorite, Lloyd second, and Charlie couldn't even be considered a favorite.

So, he had agreed to pay Charlie one-dollar for every chores completed. Charlie found it quite unfair, but he had to start somewhere. And Arthur wouldn't allow the payment go any higher.

Charlie knew that much.

He walks into the pawn shop with his first payment at-hand. Quite pathetic, he knows, but twenty dollars is a start.

He slaps it down onto the counter, grinning a little. He is getting the piano back. No matter how long it takes.

"You got a long way to go, Charlie," Bernie's says. Charlie frowns a little. "But it's a good enough start," Bernie says.

Charlie looks over at the piano and then back at Bernie. "I know."

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's fourteen.

Eighth grade is full of bullies, and Charlie's gotten used to managing his way around them.

Well, except Andrew. Lloyd is just the lost, naive puppy. Going along with his brothers schemes, enduring the verbal abuse from his brother that, unfortunately, flies right over his head.

Currently, Charlie finds himself trying to keep the money in his pockets. He needs it desperately for the piano. It's his largest payment yet. Fourth-five-dollars and sixty-seven-cents.

If Andrew gets a hold of the money, then Charlie has to go back to swiping money off the floors of city-buses and sidewalks.

Arthur took away the allowance after Andrew and Lloyd took Charlie's money the first time, and accused him of losing it. Arthur lectured Charlie for more than an hour.

Most of the lecture was wasted on the tuned-out, stubborn little boy, and so Charlie doesn't quite remember it all.

And sometimes Charlie will play on the streets for by-passers with the ukulele he'd found in a dumpster nearby the Palace. Someone had dumped it there and it was in fixable condition.

It just need some string replacements and major tuning, and Charlie had spent weeks working on it. When it was fixed up, he practiced it, enjoying the sounds it made.

And so he began to create tunes, and songs. He'd gone through a major voice change around that time, but he sung anyway, and performed normally after school or on his way to the pawn shop.

He just has to get by Andrew and Lloyd with the piano money, and everything will be good.

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's sixteen.

High school.

Not much else to say. But, his payments have become a lot smaller and less frequent. The workload is much too overwhelming for Charlie, but he manages.

He knew a long time ago that trying to buy back the piano would become harder and harder. And now that Charlie is waiting on people at the Palace everyday after school for countless hours, without pay, it makes finding time to earn a couple bucks very difficult.

So he works for tips from the few customers that come in. The current amount in his pockets is about twenty-two-dollars and seven-cents.

Pathetic, he knows. But it's the best he's got.

The first chance he gets, with a good amount of payment, he plans to go down to the pawn shop and pay Bernie. Every payment helps.

Diego and Martha have been slipping him a couple bucks too, when Arthur isn't around. They know how bad he wants the piano back.

But even at the rate he's paying, and the amount he's earning, the piano could take another fifteen years before its his.

This doesn't discourage him though.

Not at all.

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's seventeen.

Charlie's payments are better, now that it's summer and he's off from school. He helps Diego and Martha around the Palace a bit more, since Arthur's been busy trying to teach "Androyd" how to put on a good performance.

Charlie tunes them out though as he works.

At night, once Arthur's locked him into his bedroom until morning, he grabs the songbook from the suitcase packed for when he's legally able to leave his "guardian," and writes the lyrics in his head.

Normally, he comes up with them the more Arthur compares him to "Androyd." Other times, his inspiration comes from singing into the handle of the mops and brooms.

A guy can dream, can't he?

And dreams are meant to come true, that is if you really want them.

Who says Charlie can't be the next big thing?

"Someday," he constantly tells himself.

**A/N: So, how was that for a second round? Again, I apologize for any mistakes! It's midnight, and I'm on my iPod.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello loves! Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews! You're all so sweet! I've decided to continue writing drabbles, so I hope you continue to read and enjoy them! **

He's eleven.

How could you leave the Palace to Arthur? He thinks bitterly, as if his mother could hear him-maybe she could?

He couldn't hate his mother for something as silly as a deed though. After all, how many eleven year olds actually had a deed in their name?

"You done with the chores yet?" Arthur called from his office. Startled, Charlie tripped over the bucket of soapy, grimy mud water. There was an angry sigh from the office, and next thing Charlie new, Arthur stood before him.

He grabbed Charlie by the collar of his sweatshirt and pulled him up roughly to his feet. "Look what you did now!"

Charlie didn't bother listening. It was the same thing all the time. "Clean it up now. We open in twenty."

Releasing Charlie's sweatshirt, Arthur stormed off back to his office to continue sorting papers from bills and paychecks.

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's fifteen.

Charlie was finally in high school, and although he probably should've been excited, he wasn't.

Andrew and Lloyd were in the grade above him, so of course, his first day consisted of his step-brothers slamming his locker door on his fingers, or sticking their legs in front of his so that as he walked through the halls, he tripped and fell.

His backpack tore, but it wasn't new or anything. Arthur tossed him some old clothes and shoes of Andrew's and Lloyd's, and the backpack was hand-me-down too.

Even as some of the girls had given him shy glances, Andrew managed to make him look like a freak. Lloyd didn't help make things better either.

This was only the first day. Charlie could only imagine the next three years of his high school experience.

**RAGSRAGSRAGSRAGS**

He's sixteen.

Finally, Arthur had extended his curfew to midnight. This gave him more time to do what he wanted to.

Charlie was on his very first date with a girl named Alexis. She had long, wavy blonde hair, and sharp features, like cheekbones and jawline.

It was eleven-thirty, and Charlie was walking Alexis home. "I had fun tonight," Alexis said, smiling at her shoes-she was too shy to look at Charlie.

Her shyness was what attracted Charlie. "I had fun too," he replied. He decided to play her a song, as he kept his ukulele on him at all times.

It was like his best friend.

Andrew had broken his first ukulele, and he'd given Arthur, Andrew and Lloyd hell for weeks until Arthur had paid him enough money (after hours and hours of chores) to buy a new, better one.

"Maybe we can hang out again sometime," he said after a couple minutes of serenading Alexis. Her cheeks were bright red, but the cool, spring night made it difficult to notice.

"I would like that," she smiled, straightening her shoulders. They'd arrived at her house at exactly eleven-forty-five, which left Charlie fifteen minutes to get home.

He only needed ten. Alexis wasnt the type of girl to kiss someone on her first date-and Charlie was her first date-but the night had been fun, and so, with a quick peck to Charlie's lips, she said goodnight, and went inside her house.

Charlie smiled, still feeling her lips on his own. His first kiss had been quick, but sweet, and he was hoping they would all feel like this one. Sweet.

He walked home, strumming his ukulele that night, singing the happiest song he knew.

**A/N: And that is the third set of drabbles of Charlie's childhood! Let me know what you thought? :) **

**Also, I'm typing this on my iPod, so please pardon any mistakes/errors and/or the shortness of this chapter.**


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